DYEH 16

Chapter 16

She had a feeling she knew who the caller was—the one she’d said she didn’t need to answer earlier.

It must’ve been her.

Seo-hee lied, saying she hadn’t noticed the call. But why would she lie, especially to someone who seemed close to her?

Maybe it was just habit—an occupational one. Questions that didn’t need asking began to surface. Joo-young’s gaze naturally turned toward the other woman. Maybe she’d stared too intently without realizing it, because the woman frowned as if annoyed.

Suppressing her discomfort, Joo-young forced a polite smile.

“Um… and you are?”

What was it that made her eyes burn with hostility like that? Joo-young glanced at Seo-hee, then at the woman again.

They seemed close, but there was an odd tension between them. Thinking it was her duty as a friend to ease the awkwardness, Joo-young decided to introduce herself.

“I’m Shin Joo-young. Fourth-year in the law department.”

She even mentioned her age deliberately and reached out her hand in a friendly gesture. But the other woman did nothing—she just stayed silent.

Seo-hee quickly stepped in.

“This is my friend.”
“Friend?”

Lee-soo looked at Seo-hee with disbelief, as if to say, You have friends? Seo-hee had no intention of explaining or justifying herself. Instead, she smiled brightly and introduced Lee-soo to Joo-young.

“Joo-young, this is my cousin, Han Lee-soo.”
“Oh! Seo-hee’s cousin?”

They didn’t look alike at all, but Joo-young reached out her awkwardly suspended hand and clasped Lee-soo’s.

“Nice to meet you. If you’re Seo-hee’s cousin, you’re practically my little sister too. You can call me unnie.”

Lee-soo felt uncomfortable but didn’t show it. Her slightly trembling lips said enough.

Seo-hee smiled kindly at her.

It must be uncomfortable, Han Lee-soo.

Good. That’s the point. So just endure it.

Swallowing the words she couldn’t say aloud, Seo-hee spoke smoothly.

“Anyway, why did you call so many times? Did something happen?”
“Something happened to you, not me.”

There was a sharpness in her tone. Understandable, really—Seo-hee had skipped class without warning, so of course Lee-soo would be curious about what she was up to.

“Why didn’t you come to class?”

Before Seo-hee could answer, Joo-young jumped in.

“Well, that’s because, little sister, today at the library—”
“Joo-young!”

Seo-hee cut her off at just the right moment. There was no need for Lee-soo to hear about what had happened earlier, and definitely not about the police station with Jin Woo-hyuk.

“Remember what you told me earlier?”
“Huh?”
“You said you had something to give me. You left it at the library.”

It was a random cover, but Joo-young caught on immediately.

“Oh gosh, you’re right! What if it’s gone by now?”

Her acting was flawless.

“I’m sorry, Lee-soo. I have to get something from Joo-young. I’ll call you later, okay?”

Turning toward the library, Seo-hee led the way with Joo-young. Their meeting—and parting—had happened so quickly that Lee-soo was left blinking in disbelief.

“What the hell, Han Seo-hee…”

She stared at their retreating figures, dumbfounded.

“Come on, be honest.”
“About what?”
“You’re not actually close to her, are you?”

Climbing the small hill, Joo-young hit the nail on the head.

“Why wouldn’t I be close to my own cousin?”
“That’s exactly what’s weird. Cousins shouldn’t have that awkward, tense atmosphere. She seemed to know it too, but you two were pretending otherwise. It’s strange.”
“Am I being interrogated right now?”

Joo-young grinned triumphantly.

“Of course. I’m going to be a prosecutor, you know.”

Right. And a great one, too.

Knowing someone’s potential and their future gave Seo-hee an odd sense of satisfaction. She’d learned of it by chance, but knowing Shin Joo-young’s future made her think it might be useful to be close to her.

So she’d gone out of her way to spend time with her. There would be more connections like this to make in the future.

Even Jin Woo-hyuk…

Her thoughts naturally drifted to him. Someone necessary—for her revenge, and to prevent the misfortune to come. She suddenly felt an urge to hand him the book today.

“Thanks.”
“For what? Compared to what I owe you, this is nothing.”

They reached the top of the hill, where the long staircase leading to the library came into view.

“Heading to the library?”
“Yeah. Still have something to do. You said you’re going back to the dorm?”
“Yep. Need to sober up a bit before studying tonight.”

Seo-hee nodded and waved lightly.

“I’ll text you later, friend.”

Joo-young waved back with a bright smile. It was probably just a casual farewell, but the word friend resonated strangely in Seo-hee’s chest.

After betrayal had taught her how fragile trust was, she thought she’d never feel that warmth again. But now, someone was telling her they were on her side. Joo-young’s words felt genuine—perhaps more than anyone’s.

“I had fun today, friend.”

Seo-hee replied with a smile, mirroring her. Just exchanging that one word filled her chest with a bittersweet emotion.

Meanwhile, Woo-hyuk was at his studio near campus. The project he was developing with a friend wasn’t going well.

What was the problem? He couldn’t seem to focus today.

“Phew…”

He stretched, leaning back in his chair. His neck and back ached from staring at the monitor too long.

He called himself a developer, but in truth, there were no real results yet. At first, he’d been confident—but as things dragged on, that confidence was fading. The freelance gigs his professor had arranged were barely enough to keep the studio afloat.

“Let’s take a break. I need a smoke.”

It was Kim Dong-jin, his partner and fellow developer, talking around a cigarette.

“When you’re stuck, you gotta rest. Staring at the screen won’t fix it.”
“It feels like it’s almost working, but not quite.”
“Spring breeze, good weather—maybe what you need is a girlfriend.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Typical Woo-hyuk response. Dong-jin chuckled.

“You’re too stiff, man.”

He perched on the desk and clapped Woo-hyuk’s shoulder.

“Buddy.”
“…”
“Doesn’t matter how smart you are if your brain’s locked up. And what loosens a rigid brain? Love, my friend.”

Love, seriously?

Woo-hyuk muttered a quiet curse and shook his head.

“You think staring at the screen all night will fix anything? Get some sleep. Your eyes are so sunken you’re ruining that handsome face.”
“Stop talking nonsense and either work or leave. I’ve got enough problems already.”
“Fine, fine. Just go get some air if you’re that stuck.”

Dong-jin slipped out quickly before Woo-hyuk could stop him, leaving him alone in the cramped studio.

Two desks and a couple of computers—that was all. He could barely afford the semi-basement room.

This was where he lived, studied, ate, and chased his dream. If he didn’t love what he was doing, he never would’ve lasted this long.

If only they could find an investor, things might look brighter. But for now, he was still a rookie, and his professor had said he needed more time and experience.

“Phew…”

He exhaled, trying to shake off the frustration, then looked back at the monitor. Just as his fingers hovered over the keyboard, his phone buzzed.

Bzzz.

A message flashed on the screen from an unknown number—but he instantly recognized the sender.

<This is Han Seo-hee. Are you at the library?>

Woo-hyuk snatched up his phone immediately and typed a reply, no hesitation, as if he’d been waiting for it.

<Not the library, but I’m still on campus. Are you there?>

He wasn’t actually on campus—but he sent it anyway.

<Can we meet for a bit? I’ll give you the marketing book.>

So she’d already finished it? She’d said it wasn’t urgent. He started typing You can give it to me tomorrow, but deleted it and wrote again:

<Should we meet at the library?>

Her reply came almost instantly.

<I’ll be in the reading room.>

Woo-hyuk stood up, gripping his phone tightly, and left the studio.

Maybe, as Dong-jin said, this was his chance to refresh his mind—if only for a moment.